


Midgar's Flower Boy

by wimblydonner



Category: Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Aerith!Hope, Cloud!Lightning, Crossdressing, F/M, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wimblydonner/pseuds/wimblydonner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day, Hope is there to help Lightning relax on the Ark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midgar's Flower Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Dreamwidth community Are You Game?; prompt: _Final Fantasy XIII, Lightning/Hope: cross-dressing - White cotton panties look even cuter than expected._

"Would you like a flower? They're only one gil."

When Lightning first materializes back on the Ark, she has to turn away because Hope is almost _too_ cute. She'd told him to make himself look pretty for when she got back, but she hadn't quite expected _this_. He's all dolled up in her Midgar's Flower Girl garb—hair tyed back, pink dress, red jacket—and offering her a single luminous blue flower from the Wildlands. He's adorable, the gesture is too sweet, and Lightning doesn't even know what she's going to do with him because like hell she has experience dealing with _cute_ stuff. She turns away, flustered. 

Hope grins. He knows that aren't many people who can get the better of Lightning freakin' Farron. "I'll put it in a vase for you, Light," he says cheerfully. 

He goes to retrieve a vase from the bookcase. Lightning watches him walk across the room, the pink dress swaying about his ankles. Was it wrong that she thought he looked darned _hot_ in it? She'd never been impressed with tough guys because the reality was that she was stronger and steelier than all of them. But Hope was the kind of boy who excelled at the kind of things Lightning was terrible at: planning, being supportive, looking cute. 

Hope places the flower in a vase and sets it atop the bookshelf and returns. "You're OK, right?" he asks, now sounding genuinely concerned rather than playful. "Not hurt or anything?" 

"Of course I'm OK," she snaps. Nothing had ever defeated Lightning, and nothing ever would. If there was one resolve she had, it was that, even if she wasn't always the best at finding peace and happiness. 

But the day's fighting has left her tired, and the armored pad on her shoulders starts to feel as heavy as lead. Hope helpfully unbuckles it and removes it for her, and the relief is almost instantaneous. "Well, then, tell me about your day, Miss SOLDIER," he asks. 

She props up her Buster Sword against the bookshelf before she slumps down into the long, reclining piece of metal that functions like a couch. She starts to take off her gloves. "You already know about my day. You were watching me the whole time." 

Hope kneels to unlace her boots. She feels the adrenaline and stress drain from her body as he strips off all her accoutrements of battle. It's a nice feeling, being waited upon. It's not that she _needs_ the help, or at least she likes to think she doesn't, but after a life of striving to overcome obstacles, she's glad to have a force in her life that she doesn't have to fight and oppose. There's at least one ally who will always be in her corner. And from the looks of it, he'd also tidied up the shelves and mopped the floor to a sparkling shine while she was out. He was really something. 

"I know," her sidekick replies, "but I want to know how you _feel_ about it." 

She can't help but snort a little. _Feelings_ were something that Lightning dismissed as a waste of time, or at least liked to claim that she did. What the hell did it matter how she felt about as long as she got the job done? She rarely even stopped to _consider_ how she felt about something. But she's trying to do it more now, for Hope's sake. She realizes it's good that at least _one_ of them was thinking of their feelings, and she was content to let him take charge of their emotional well-being. Lightning's role in the relationship was more about punching stuff that got in their way. 

She throws him a bone: "Later," she promises. "I'm tired right now." 

"Okay." Hope moves behind her and starts to massage her shoulders. And they _needed_ it; her muscles ached from swinging around a sword that was as tall as she was. She grunts a little and leans into his touch. Bit by bit, his hands push out the tension and pain in her shoulders and neck. She's already feeling so much more comfortable and she never wants to get up from this couch. 

"Poor Light," he says, in a slightly chiding tone suggests he thinks that perhaps she's not taking adequate care of herself. "Always working so hard, saving everyone's souls." 

His hands move to the leather straps holding up her blue tunic. "How about we get these off you?" 

She's still so tired that she just lies there as he unbuckles the straps, too exhausted to help him or even shift position as he pulls away the tunic. "You just want to get me naked," she observes dryly. 

He flushes. He's always so cute when he's flustered; when Mr. Genius Scientist has to admit he's got the same flesh-and-blood desires as the rest of them. Well, she doesn't object. She just wants some eye candy, too. "Take off your jacket," she commands. 

He complies. He sets the little red jacket on the shelf besides the vase and flower, then returns. He stands in front of her in just the pink dress, hands tucked demurely behind his back, beaming. She knows he's playing it up for her, trying to be as disgustingly sweet as possible, because it will catch her off guard. And it's _working_. 

Boys shouldn't be allowed to be this cute. There was no telling what they might tempt an upstanding woman into doing. 

Hope fiddles with the top button of the dress: starting to undo it, letting Lightning think he was about to strip it off, before buttoning it back up again and dashing her hopes over and over. He was well aware she liked his chest—slender but well-shaped—and was intent on driving her mad for it. He knew her too well, which is why he was always so good at teasing her. 

With a curled finger, she beckons him closer. As good as the dress looked on him, it would look even better on the floor. She undoes one button after another with characteristic efficiency—every movement precise, getting the job done as quickly as possible. It's like unwrapping a present. A smart, adorable, fuckable present. 

The dress falls to the floor, leaving Hope in just the garb's underwear. The white cotton panties look even cuter on him than she expected. Her fingers trace the lace edges. Fucking adorable. She could probably stare at him like this for hours, except for the fact they both wanted to get laid. 

Her hands close around the outline of his cock, feeling him up through his panties. It's not difficult for Lightning to trace every contour of his dick and balls. He's already getting hard, and she likes that. He's cute and sweet, but she wouldn't want him to be _too_ innocent. She doesn't want a guy whom she might be taking advantage of, merely one who she can make blush. 

She gives his cock a squeeze and feels it stiffen even more. "Oh, is _this_ what you think about me? Were you really just cleaning all day, or thinking dirty thoughts instead?" 

"Well ... there was the time you had your Amazon garb on," he admits, thinking of her bikini. 

"Oh yeah? That one got you hot and bothered?" She strips her tank top off, letting her tits bounce free. "How about _now_?" 

Hope doesn't pretend not to stare. His cock twitches and strains against the constraints of his underwear. It seems painful. Well, she was never one to take too long to claim what she wanted. She yanks his panties to the floor, exposing his erection in full. Fuck, he looked good. Skinny, lanky boys always had the best cocks. And it was still growing. 

"Y-you could be a fashion model, Light," Hope stammers, trying to find a classy way to comment on her looks. 

"Good thing I got back when I did, huh?" she teases back, a semblance of a smile finally breaking out on her face. "Fucking _pervert_." 

"You're one to talk, Light," he says. He reaches down and touches the giant wet spot between her legs, his fingers pressing against her through the fabric of her boxers. "Look at you; it's like you threw your underwear in a waterfall." 

"Thought you'd be more honored that I was soaking my boxers for you." 

She sits up enough to crook an arm around his neck and pull him closer. "Come here, you cute thing," she says, planting a kiss on his forehead and then hoisting him on top of her on the couch. Her arms fold around him and draw his body against hers, unmistakably staking out a claim: _Mine_. 

He kisses her neck. "I worry about you, you know," he admits. 

She grunts, non-committally. She already said she didn't want to talk about any feeling crap. 

His hands trawl through her long pink hair. She's thought of cutting it sometimes to get it out of her way, but she can't be bothered to style it, and she wouldn't get to enjoy Hope playing with it. His hands move gently and rhythmically through her locks, seeking something comforting and predictable in an unstable world. "I mean ... all I do is watch," he murmurs into her bare skin. "There's not much I can do to help." 

Lightning understands that. She hates feeling powerless, too. And so she kisses him, draping her lips long and slow across his bottom lip, so tender and gentle that any bystander would have to admit that even badass Lightning Farron has a soft spot for her lover. She hopes he appreciates the gesture, because there's not many people who would get that out of her. "You help plenty," she declares in a whisper. "But fighting Meonektons for hours has me ticked off. I want to blow off some steam." 

His finger traces her cheek. "That's just your way of saying you want sex, Light." 

"Damn right." She rolls them over so she's pinning her all-too-willing "victim" to the couch. 

Lightning sits up. Hope's cock is now fully erect: prettily slender, elegantly long, rock hard. It's impossible not to want to feel him up. She places her palms around it, and that alone is enough to make Hope whimper and squirm. And when she runs her hands up and down his length, he positively moans. His voice already strained, he begs, "Fuck me, Light, please." 

"Heh, don't worry. I plan to." 

Lightning stands up long enough to strip off her boxers and then straddles Hope. Her hands press him down and keep his body in place so that she can easily mount his cock. She could save the cuddly shit for some other time. She wants to fuck his pretty little brains out. 

She thrusts herself against his body, sliding up and down the length of his erection. _Fuck_ yes. She marvels at how deep in her his cock is getting. After all he's done for her, and all he means to her, it feels like the perfect culmination to have him actually _inside_ her, to be practically _enveloping_ him with her cunt. 

It doesn't take her long before she's built up to a quick speed, riding his dick up and down with all the strength left in her. Hope, for his part, is thrusting her hips to meet her, his gasps and moans revealing how good this must be for him. His hands travel up her side, tracing the outline of her hips before moving up to explore her breasts. 

Between riding Hope's cock and his fingers teasing around her areolae, it's so good she's practically _squirming_. She reaches down and starts to rub her clit. One of Hope's fingers joins her there— 

—but only for a moment, because then he starts coming. He gasps, and Lightning feels his cock—no, his _whole body_ —shake. Hell yeah. That was what she liked. Nothing could beat the feeling of overwhelming him, of watching the man she loved shake and whimper and give himself up in pleasure for her. 

She's desperate for a climax now herself. Her hand works her pussy in double-time as Hope also trails a finger around the edge of her folds. She's well past any desire to tease or draw this out; inexorable desire has now taken over her body and demanded that every limb, every nerve help make her come. She's grinding hard against her hand, and then— _FUCK!_ —finally she's over the edge, shaking and grunting and heaving her chest, all of the day's battles and trials and Meonektons melting away in one perfect moment of pure physical pleasure. 

Hope curls up, looking all blushy and pretty and vulnerable. She throws herself down on the couch beside him and wraps her arms around him from behind. He was definitely a keeper, that was for sure. She really didn't know where she'd be without his guidance and company—but even beyond that, she likes to think she'd enjoy being with him even if she had no mission to carry out. 

Of course, it didn't take long for him to get sassy again. "Careful, Light," he says, "someone might think you're getting sentimental." 

"You're a pain in the ass," she growls, with great affection. She lingers beside him for just another moment, mussing his hair. "I thought you wanted to hear about my day." 

"I do," he murmurs, still sounding slightly dazed from his orgasm. Damn, he was cute. 

She jabs him playfully in the back with a finger. "Good. Go find your clothes and then we can chat." 

Lightning swings her hips around and slides off the couch, rising quickly to her feet. 

"Let's mosey."

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by [this fantastic fanart](http://aquanutart.tumblr.com/post/74758471399/in-a-little-over-two-weeks-i-will-be-able-to-play)


End file.
